Ode to Mitch
Smells shuffle noxiously, not fusty
or rancid like local organics afloat
over the paper manufacturing plant,
but some process foreign, imported
stink from our native robber baron
returned now, to invest in our town
and vault America to new greatness.
Crowds assemble to attend the man,
greet him with nosegays swaddling
their noses, cackles convulsing their
voices, withering throats of gratitude.
Hold! He speaks: “Fellow citizens,
ladies and gentlemen, Republicans,
let us pray for our glorious leader
who has taught us as Americans how
we should act in our communities and
in the world! God bless Mr. Trump!”
“Mitch, what is that disgusting smell?”